


The Gentleman's Guide to Grand Romantic Gestures

by Sophia_Prester



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bob is unhelpful, Fluff and Humor, Jack always knows last, Jack is jealous of small children, Jack's teammates are jerks, M/M, Shitty is marginally helpful, Tater is unhelpful, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-16 20:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Prester/pseuds/Sophia_Prester
Summary: "So what you're telling me, you ridiculously romantic hockey god, is that you wish tocourtour dear Mr. Bittle, but your teammates are doing some weird G-rated version of cockblocking."





	The Gentleman's Guide to Grand Romantic Gestures

**Author's Note:**

> This is for tumblr user bingobramble. I hope you enjoy this! Also, as usual, many thanks to Aishuu for her assistance and cheerleading.

When Jack first imagined summer with Bitty, he only allowed himself to picture the two of them alone in some quiet place. Sometimes, they were in bed, indulging in slow, lazy lovemaking as the soft morning light filtered in. Other times, it was the dock at his parents' summer house in Nova Scotia, where they sat, arms around each other as sunset faded to twilight. Or it was his ( _their_ ) kitchen, cooking breakfast together and indulging in soft, casual touches.

But now he had won the Stanley Cup. Now, he had publicly laid claim to something far more important than the Cup.

Now, he wanted _more_.

Yes, he still pictured quiet times alone, but with nothing to hide, he let himself dream of reservations at five star restaurants. Dates that were obviously _dates_.

A whole summer's worth of weekends where he could show off the man he loved to the whole wide world.

***

"...Thirdy, Marty, Coop, and Trainer Bill," Tater ticked each name off on his fingers. "Is _six_ families B babysit for this summer!"

Jack grumbled something uncharitable under his breath. "You counted Marty twice."

Tater shrugged. "So? Five not bad. Good money for B, yes?"

Yes. It was good money. Jack's teammates would pay _quite_ well and Bill wouldn't be stingy, either.

"With next three weekends all booked, is _very_ good money!"

"Yes," Jack said through a too-bright smile, "It is."

"All these old married couples, making up for weekends during season with no time for romance."

"Ha ha."

 _One of these days_... At least they had tonight for staying in and making out.

"Zimmboni! Is okay if I stay for dinner? No food at home," Tater pouted.

Jack eyed Bitty's twelve-inch cast iron skillet and wondered how much trouble he would be in if he took out Tater's other knee.

***

Things weren't _completely_ awful. Even with Tater inviting himself over most days, Jack and Bitty had plenty of 'quality' time together. They had settled quickly into easy domesticity, with none of the unpleasant surprises Marty cautioned him might come with living together for the first time.

Of course, he and Bitty _had_ lived together before, with none of the benefits of 'living together' that could make it tempting to ignore habits like singing too loudly in the shower when other people were trying to sleep or being a petty dictator about people cleaning up after themselves and yes, that means you, Jack, I don't care if you're captain.

All in all, their routines weren't that different from their days in the Haus. Yes, they shared a bed, and there wasn't a lingering unpleasant odor that no one could ever identify or get rid of, but it was comfortable and familiar. Even Tater taking up residence on their couch most days was reminiscent of the other Hausmates hanging around. (Thankfully, Tater wore more clothes than Shitty and wasn't _quite_ as loud as Holster.)

Jack found comfort in their gentle rhythms of getting ready for the day or settling down for the night. He cherished these everyday moments in ways he never could have imagined when he was nineteen.

But when he had to cancel another surprise reservation because Marty and Gabby were desperate for a babysitter, well...

If he was a bad person, he might wish for a summer cold to rip through the Falconer offspring. Nothing dangerous of course, just something that would result in a temporary but inconsolable misery that could only be soothed by the loving attention of both parents and not a babysitter.

Jack pondered this for a moment.

Yeah, he was a bad person.

***

"... remember how PR advised us to keep a low profile for a few weeks, right?"

"Mmm-hmm," Bob agreed, sounding much as he did whenever grandpère told the same story for the fiftieth time.

"It's not like we had been planning to go out on any big public dates anyway, but once we were both out, it was all I could think about." Jack paced the apartment as he ranted. "Remember those fancy dates you and Maman used to go on?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Jack had always loved Maman's stories. Being asked to put on a nice dress and then being whisked off to a fancy restaurant and a table in the window with a ridiculously extravagant flower arrangement and a bottle of her favorite wine chilled and waiting. Going dancing - not to a club with strobing lights and pounding bass, but someplace with crystal chandeliers, tuxedoed waiters with trays of champagne flutes, sweeping music that was already old before she was born, couples who had been madly in love for decades...

"She told me how special it made her feel. And that's what I want. For Bitty. But - "

"Mmm-hmm."

Jack paused, taking stock of his father's string of non-answers. "But unfortunately, I have decided to quit the NHL and go to clown college."

"Mmm-hm _wha_? Euh, sorry. You were saying?"

With effort, Jack unclenched his teeth. "I was _saying_ that I want the same thing for Bitty, but his bakery job means no late weeknights, and now that PR thinks it's 'safe,' suddenly all my teammates have him booked every damned weekend!"

"Every weekend all summer?" Bob sounded far too amused.

"Through the end of July," Jack gritted out. His hand tightened on his phone enough to make it creak ominously.

"Let's see..." A rustling of paper indicated that Bob was not only checking his desk calendar, he was doing so with emphasis. "That's, hmm... two more weeks? Oh, dear. However shall you manage?"

"Papa..."

"What about that first weekend in August? The one closest to your birthday?"

" _And_ our anniversary."

"Which one?" Bob asked innocently. "Last I recall, you have two anniversaries that you celebrate. Or is it three?"

"Stop being horrible. The point is, he'll _expect_ me to do something that weekend."

"Is that so bad?" Bob asked softly.

"No, it's not," Jack admitted after a moment. Still, something was missing. Surprise was part of it, but only _part_ of it, and Jack wasn't sure he had that part in its right place. "You know how when you're working on some part of your game, and you know something isn't right but you can't figure out what it is?"

This time, Bob's 'mmm-hmm' was genuine.

"That's how this feels."

Jack waited, hoping his father would offer some pithy bit of advice, some quote or something, that would cause everything to suddenly _make sense_ the way it had last May.

Bob cleared his throat. Jack held his breath.

"Well, _mon fils_ , maybe you should take some time to think it over. You _do_ have the next couple of weekends free, right?"

Bob was still cackling when Jack hung up on him.

Later, Jack typed out a note to the Falconers' group chat announcing that Bitty had tragically developed a sudden and violent allergy to children, so sorry, he hoped it didn't ruin anyone's plans.

He deleted it before he could hit 'send,' but it was a close thing.

***

It took Shitty five minutes to stop laughing after Jack explained his problem.

"So what you're telling me, you ridiculously romantic hockey god, is that you wish to _court_ our dear Mr. Bittle, but your teammates are doing some weird G-rated version of cockblocking."

"Yes! Exactly!"

"Then ask him to keep a weekend free for some lovin'. You know, for a couple who normally rocks the communication thing, you're really screwing the pooch on this one."

"I just..." Jack closed his eyes and thought about what he could say that wouldn't make him a horrible person. If he said he was upset that Bitty kept making weekend plans without checking with him, that would be controlling and awful. That wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want Bitty to feel _obligated_ to be with him.

"Just what?" Shitty asked gently and with no hint of laughter.

Jack flopped down on the unusually Tater-free couch and let out a ragged breath. "You're right, about the courting. I don't want to be stuck home alone and Bitty to be stuck with a bunch of kids while other people are out having the kind of night _we_ should be able to have. It's our turn, damn it!"

"One, do you realize how adorable it is that you're jealous of a herd of preschoolers? Two, do you really think Bitty's expecting that kind of heteronormative Hallmark horseshit?"

Jack paused, mentally replaying Shitty's words. "How long have you been waiting for a chance to use that particular alliteration?"

"Don't ruin my moment, Jackabelle. Now, has Bitty ever said or hinted that he's _expecting_ some grand romantic gesture?"

"No, but..." Shitty was good enough at reading Jack's silences to wait as he pulled his words together. "You know his home town, and all the pressure to act a certain way, to _be_ a certain way?"

"Yeah. Repressionville."

"Exactly. So, do you think he ever even let himself imagine he _could_ have a fancy night out on the town being pampered and shown off?"

Shitty let out a long _hmmmm_ that boded little good. "You pamper and show off babies. Or fancy new cars. Saying that about another adult? Kinda skeevy, brah."

Jack growled and tugged at his hair. "No! That's not... I don't mean like, well, whatever it was you just said that you should never say again. Maman said that before she met Papa, she did have a few dates like that, with men who treated her like an idiot or a trophy or both."

"Was there anything left of those men after those dates?"

"A smear on the pavement, maybe? Anyhow, Maman said what made Papa different was that he treated her like a queen because he not only believed she deserved to be treated that way, he believed _everyone_ should know she deserved to be treated that way." His voice got a little thick as he remembered the wonder in her voice that was still there after thirty years. "She said it made her feel like _she_ was special - not her looks, not her fame, but _her_."

Shitty pondered that for a few moments. "Your mom rocks, you know that, yeah?"

"I do." He sighed. "It's been a great summer, and I shouldn't complain, but does Bitty have to babysit _every_ weekend? I know he's trying to save up, and I get why he won't let me just give him the money, but is one weekend too much to ask?"

"So _ask_ him, for fuck's sake! If you want it to be some big, romantic surprise, tell him you want to take him to a lecture on World War Two rationing and then go do something that other human beings would actually enjoy. Brah, you've already given him, what, _three_ major rom-com moments in just over a year? Four if you count the bazillion roses for Valentine's day? It's a good thing Lards isn't into that kind of shit because you've set the bar so high it's now lost somewhere in the fucking asteroid belt."

Jack laughed and even though his frustration started to melt away, a little voice in the back of his head was still pitching a fit and shouting, _no! you just don't GET it!_

The last time he'd heard that voice, it had taken his father and a cheesy quote to get him sprinting across campus before it was too late.

After Shitty hung up, Jack checked the _A Year of Hockey Quotes_ calendar he'd gotten as a Secret Santa gift (odd, because the rules had been clear about 'gag gifts' only) to see if it would be any help.

 

> **Saturday, July 23:** _"Is that a beard, or is Niedermayer eating a muskrat?"_

"Oh, fuck you!"

***

The following Saturday, Tater followed Jack home after spending the afternoon at a fundraiser for a youth hockey league. Snowy would meet them at Jack's, and they would have a video game tournament and enjoy one of their last pizzas before training camp began.

Bitty was, of course, babysitting.

Jack wasn't _too_ grumpy about this, because Bitty had promised that the first weekend in August would be Jack's and Jack's alone, Friday to Monday.

"Oddly enough," he'd said with a smile Jack couldn't interpret, "I'm about done with babysitting for the summer."

Tater pulled up just as Jack was getting out of his car. Jack waited so they could walk in together, but as soon as Tater got out of his car, he slapped his forehead dramatically and let out a loud Russian curse.

"I'm forget I tell George I stop by after fundraiser!" He gave Jack a puppydog look. "Forgive me?"

"Always, man," Jack laughed. "I'll give Snowy your regrets."

Tater drove off just as Snowy texted he couldn't make it after all.

Jack shrugged it off. Oh, well. Just another quiet Saturday night. Alone.

Except... music was playing when he opened the door. Had Bitty forgotten his phone? But there was also the smell of apple-maple pie.

"Hey, sweetpea! You're home early." Bitty emerged from the kitchen. Oddly, he was wearing dress slacks and a nice shirt under his apron. His hair was neatly styled.

"You're here," Jack said like an idiot.

"Oh, the Robinsons canceled," Bitty said with a smirk. "Imagine that." A timer went off and he returned to the kitchen.

Canceled? Why couldn't Thirdy have said something earlier? He could have planned something if he had known.

Before he could say anything, Bitty was back.

"I made us a pie for later if we want, but I thought you and I could go out for a change."

Jack's mind shorted out as Bitty brushed a kiss against his jaw. Then Bitty blushed and looked up shyly. "If you want, I mean."

Of _course_ he wanted! He tried to say as much, but Bitty laughed at his flustered attempts to form words and shooed him off with instructions to get showered and dressed.

After a shower that went by in a daze, Jack went into the bedroom to see his best bespoke suit hanging on the closet door and one of his French-cuffed dress shirts laid out neatly on the bed along with the tie that Bitty said matched his eyes.

Next to the shirt was a small velvet box. Jack's breath caught for a second, but the box was a bit too wide to be a ring box. Still, his hands shook as he opened it.

A note tucked into the box said 'Happy Anniversary.' Beneath the note was a pair of cufflinks made from 1945 Canadian Victory nickels.

Jack studied them for a good long time, tracing the V and torch with a trembling finger.

They probably hadn't cost a huge amount, maybe three nights' worth of babysitting money at most, but the thought and time that must have gone into something so perfect, that said so much about who Jack was beyond the hockey, meant far more than a large price tag or designer insignia.

Jack swallowed hard past a lump in his throat. He got dressed, leaving his cuffs unfastened, and went back to the living room.

Bitty looked up anxiously, only relaxing when Jack held out the cufflinks so he could help Jack fasten his cuffs.

"You like them?" Bitty asked.

"I love them." The words felt staggeringly inadequate.

"I made reservations at Hemenway's," Bitty said softly, cautiously, as he fastened the cuffs.

Jack started to protest. He'd seen their menu prices and he couldn't ask Bitty to spend what must be a week's paycheck on top of whatever jam and babysitting money he had saved. "But..."

Bitty shushed him with two fingers across his lips. "Don't even start, mister. I saved up special for this. I am taking you out to dinner, and the hostess has instructions not to let you anywhere near the bill."

But _he_ was the one who was supposed to be taking Bitty out. Wasn't he?

"...why?" he finished.

"Because it's our anniversary and your birthday, or close enough." Bitty fiddled nervously with Jack's tie much as he had at Jack's graduation. "And because I remember something you once said back when we were still hiding. About those stories your mama told about how your daddy courted her and how you ate up ever word of it, and well..."

He looked up pleadingly and Jack had no words that could explain how he felt other than _this is important_.

"Well, even though you never said, I could tell you wished someone would do that for you. Would make you feel special."

 _Oh_.

There it was. The moment when everything suddenly made sense. He blinked against the sting of tears. "But I'm not -"

He couldn't finish, but Bitty was right there with a grounding, soothing hand on Jack's chest.

"Sweetpea, please believe me when I say you are _worth it_. You are _so_ worth it, and I want everyone and their brother to know that. So, please let me take you out to dinner." He looked up with a crooked smile. "Besides, I can't tell you how many times I used to wish I had someone to court properly like the Southern gentleman I am."

It was meant to be a joke, but Jack heard the long frustrated desire behind the light and breezy words.

He cleared his throat so he didn't sound too choked up. "Well, I suppose tonight both of our wishes come true, eh?"

Bitty laughed and crooked his elbow invitingly. "Shall we?"

Jack slipped his hand into the bend of Bitty's elbow. This wasn't what he had planned, but it was what he had wanted long before he knew he wanted it: the love of a man who saw and loved him for _him_ , who saw more than his looks and more than his fame. Who loved him and thought he was worth it and wanted him and the whole world to know it.

"We shall."

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is curious, [this](https://www.coincommunity.com/forum/uploaded/CanadianCollector/20120817_DSCF0721_opt.jpg) is what a Victory nickel looks like. The detail around the edge is Morse Code for "We Win When We Work Willingly," which I think would appeal to Jack as more than just a historical slogan.


End file.
